


Pillow Talk

by MarbleAide



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Violence, M/M, Sexual Violence, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:57:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarbleAide/pseuds/MarbleAide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's sort of like 'I love you'. </p><p>Or, at least as close as either of them can get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

It’s when they’re both spent, covered in cooling sweat and cum and blood; when their chests stop rising so rapidly and their heart rates return to something that doesn’t echo in their ears. It’s these sorts of times that Sebastian lights up a cigarette without Jim complaining, because he’s just staring up at the ceiling with his eyes half open, dark and glazed over. Smoke clouds up the room after his third and the ashes collect between his fingers. He looks over and thinks this is what Jim must look like when he dies; so still and silent and just looking with dead eyes at nothing while still feeling like he’s gazing right into your soul to rip the very core from you.

Sebastian looks away after a minute, flopping back onto the bed and closes his own eyes so he doesn’t have to be tempted into looking at Jim. He thinks, absently, that this is how he wants to look dead, calm and limp and peaceful with his eyes closed and the world around him dark. It seems like something that fits.

When Jim’s like this, after they fuck, he doesn’t move for a while. Sebastian’s tested it before, poking him and prodding him. He’s got a soft little perfectly rounded scar right above his collar bone now, from when Sebastian decided to test the limits and press the flickering bud of his cigarette to porcelain skin to see if he could gain a reaction. The flesh blistered and burned, exposing layers of blood underneath to dribbled and pooled when Sebastian finally pulled the fag away, tapping the gray dust into the new pretty wound without so much as a wince from Jim.

It wasn’t until hours later when Sebastian was asleep did Jim repay him for it, cutting a deep hole into his side to put his finger inside and twist until Sebastian thrashed and howled. Looking back at it now, Sebastian always thought it worth it, remembering the wound fondly whenever he ran the pad of his finger over the small scar, feeling the ragged tissue that it left behind.

Sometimes, it takes hours for him to come out of the daze, sometimes less. It’s not a thing that happens often, as more times than not Jim either rolls over to sleep or gets up to shower and work without so much as a second glance thrown towards his ever loyal sniper. But, sometimes he doesn’t move for a long while and just stares until Sebastian forgets he’s there.

Sebastian never really knows what Jim thinks about when he’s like this, because that’s what he’s doing, thinking. It always ends in the same way, with Jim’s thought process finally pouring out of his mouth in a way that Sebastian’s learned to stop trying to understand; it’s better to ignore, but even so he always listens.

“I want to know what your lungs feel like expanding against my hands.” His voice drowns, eyes still unfocused as they look upwards. Sebastian says nothing in reply, only settles against the pillows and takes another drag of smoke. “Peel back tendons and ligaments from muscle and bones.” There’s a pause and Sebastian looks sideways. Black eyes flicker ever so slightly. “Watch you fall apart.”

He exhales the smoke from his lungs before turning onto his side, watching. It continues.

“See how far I can drive a nail through your skull before your eyes fade out.”

“Rip off your nails until there is just blood and count the days until they grow back.”

“I want to know what your heart tastes like.”

At this one, Jim’s eyes flicker again to turn, looking at Sebastian even though there is no other movement and he still thinks he’s looking into the gaze of a corpse. It’s unnerving, but Sebastian’s used to it, because it’s better to memorize that look then forget it; be surprised when he sees it again.

“Yeah?” He says simply, pulling the cigarette from his lips and crushed it out on the nightstand behind him without looking back. “Then tell me what it tastes like.”

He closes the distance and kisses Jim. It’s not sweet or soft, but it’s not the mess of teeth and tongue like before. It’s just a kiss, connecting Jim back up with his body again. He knows it works when Jim bites at his lip, not letting go until he tastes blood and Sebastian lets him. Lets him because he’ll let him do anything he wants; there is truth to his words. His soul is not his own anymore.

The kiss ends when Jim pulls away from it, slapping Sebastian hard across the face for the same reason as always.

“Don’t smoke in my room, Sebastian.”

It stings like a bitch and heats up half his face, but all Sebastian does is smile with it, watching as Jim throws the sheets off him and gets out of bed to clean up. Sebastian likes to watch Jim leave, the bruised imprint of his fingers still very much viewable on those sharp, white hips.

When the door slams shut, he rolls back over onto his back, hands reaching out to grab up the pack and his lighter blindly from the nightstand, firing up one more stick just because he knows Jim will come back pissed and all this will start over again.

Maybe this time around, he’ll finally end up tearing him open to see what his insides are really like.


End file.
